


metamorphosis.

by AlwaysInSonder



Series: Plance One-Shots. [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, M rated for the gorgeous (but spicy) art by artemisarya!, Post S8, Second Chance Romance, Slow Burn, Suggestive Themes, past allurance, sappy af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: Like the seasons on Earth that shifted every year, her visits became frequent and definite; and like a man who'd found oasis on a desert, he felt himself hope and heal.





	metamorphosis.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [artemisarya's](https://artemisarya.tumblr.com/post/181121132786/soseason-8-exists-yeah-anyways-heres) art!
> 
> EDIT [08/02/2019]: Artemisarya drew a lovely piece inspired by a scene from this fic! With her permission, I've inserted it in as an inline. Go see her other wonderful works on her Tumblr page!

The very first time Pidge visited him, he'd been out of sorts. On that day, she had been particularly insistent on talking about his grief; gently prodding him about his well-being and all around, trying to be a good friend. He was still in mourning then, and _any_ reminder of Voltron, the war and least of all, _her_ , was sure to put him in an irritable mood.

Lance had just been inspecting the tiny green shoots of the juniberry seedlings poking through the soil. Pidge was there to help him and after she’d finished tending to Kaltenecker’s calves, she disappeared mysteriously behind his barn. When she finally re-appeared, laptop under an arm, he was in the process of carefully plucking out caterpillars and setting them free on the neighbouring field, away from his crops. She had quietly watched him set the squirming green creatures on the grass, her eyes faraway and distant. She looked like she had a lot on her mind and Lance, on any other day and time, would have asked her after it. But that day just wasn’t it.

“Do you... want to talk about her?” Her voice was carefully soft. He had felt something of irritation spark within him. He only gave her  a one-shouldered shrug and resumed his rounds, carefully plucking out the tiny pests from his crops and setting them free.

Of course, he had no clue what she had been up to and had only grew more annoyed with her weak attempts of giving him comfort and asking after his feelings. He didn't take to any of it very kindly and had testily told her to return home. He was not proud of his behaviour, and sorely regretted every snappy response he gave to Pidge’s concerned prods.

She left his farm a few minutes later, briefly mentioning something about a “Garrison emergency”.

It was his mother who told him that she'd been in tears when she left, and it weighed heavily on his conscience for many weeks after. He'd been so consumed with his pain, that he hadn’t even noticed till much later, that she had programmed and modified the sprinklers to mist over the newly seeded lands at the optimal intervals.

* * *

 

The next time he saw her was on the first commemoration of Allura's death. As soon as the familiar teal wormhole that was distinctively from Earth materialized on the Altean sky, he felt himself smile. He waited patiently from the distance, watching her small form jump off her ship - one he was certain she'd built herself with all of the advanced fixings that were so distinctively Pidge.

But she'd avoided his gaze, and gone straight past him and into Coran's awaiting arms for a tight hug. He tried not to take it personally, but his throat had gone dry the moment her eyes glossed right past him.

She'd grown a fair bit since the last he'd seen her. She was twenty at that point and the childish curves of her face had waned to give way to one befitting of the stunning young woman she was becoming. Her eyes, however, were exactly as he remembered them; bright, inquisitive and full of the childish mirth his own eyes once held. It was a lot more subdued, considering the day, but she was the bright spark in his life as she’d always been.

Throughout the day, she cheerily greeted Shiro, Hunk and even Keith as they each arrived; the latter even giving her a brotherly tousle to her hair in greeting. When it came to his turn, however, she was silent. He could tell she was hesitating but it didn’t take long for a warm smile to bloom on her face as she stepped into his outstretched arms. He whispered an apology to her hair and she brushed it off with a shake of her head. The new, wider smile she gave instilled in him hope that their friendship was salvageable.

The relief was a soothing balm to his aching soul, as was her parting hug the following morning that was as tight and familiar as when they were the best of friends. They hadn’t spoken much that day, but the light smiles she gave him whenever she glanced his way across the dinner table eased the tightness in his chest and stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long while. It was the first time he felt such a twinge in his heart. He'd been numb inside for so long, the feeling had shaken him to the core.

* * *

 

With each successive year, the numbness slowly ebbed away, and with each day, he woke up with the heaviness in his heart lighter. The photo of his first love by his bed was eventually removed, and the picture stored carefully in a family album.

And as time passed, the friendship Pidge and he had cultivated all those years in space, slowly but surely grew. Like the seasons on Earth that shifted every year, her visits became frequent and definite; and like a man who'd found oasis on a desert, he felt himself hope and heal.

Her most frequent visits were when the juniberries bloomed their best in April, just days after her birthday. His family too, became aware of the growing tension - the _good_ sort of tension - between the two and it was no wonder they mysteriously vanished (though, Lance has caught the occasional curious head poking from behind trees) whenever she was over.

One particular year, as she bent next to him, helping his youngest niece, Elena, harvest the flowers, he found himself glancing her way more frequently. But whenever her head lifted on occasion to give him a smile or to speak with him, he found himself retreating into himself in a panic that he didn’t fully understand. It was the flutters in his chest that scared him the most.

“Aunty Pidge, look!”

She perked her head up and smiled, gently grasping the girl’s prodding hand away from the object of her attentions.

“You found a chrysalis! Don’t touch it now,” she cautioned. She carefully extracted the stem from where the pupa started and placed it a container. “You don’t want to disturb it.”

“What’s in it?” his niece pressed her little face against the glass.

“A caterpillar.”

“Won’t it be dark and lonely in there?” Elena lifted her head, wide eyes brimming with curiosity. Pidge laughed and handed the container to the girl.

“It can be. But once the caterpillar goes through all that, it becomes something beautiful. A butterfly.”

She entered a few commands on her wrist computer and showed the little girl a diagram, patiently explaining the life cycle of a butterfly. Even though Pidge rephrased the scientific jargon in a way an actual five-year-old could understand, he knew his youngest niece well enough to know that it probably went well over her head.

But seeing Elena actively prod her further, clearly not accustomed to an adult patiently explain something to her in a way that wasn’t a cutesy metaphor, Lance realized he didn’t know his niece as well as he thought he did.

And when Pidge gave him an excited smile over her shoulder, happy to have bonded with one of his nieces, and his heart skipped several beats, he realized he didn’t know himself that well either.

* * *

 

Lance opened his eyes to blinding brightness. For a moment, he wondered if he’d forgotten to close the blinds in his room, but the air was uncharacteristically cool and his surroundings unfamiliar.

_“Lance…”_

He blinked through the brightness, squinting through the light. The voice was familiar and he quickly realized that tt was not an unfamiliar place; he'd dreamt of it many times before. It had been so long since he'd dreamed of her, that to see her form before him again took the breath right out of his lungs.

“Allura…” Tears welled up in his eyes and he braced himself for the crushing pain in his chest to return whenever he dreamt of her. It never came. There was, however, the ever-present longing in him that he'd come to accept - a feeling that would grip his heart in a chokehold when he least expected it or when he looked at any reminder of her.

Her fingers felt real - warm and soft on his cheek - and her voice gentle and chiding.

_“What are you doing, Lance?”_

His hand lifted to touch the hand, curling his fingers around hers.

“What do you mean, ‘llura?”

Her eyes softened and a sadness lingered in them just as the day he lost her.

_“Why won't you let yourself live?”_

He blinked at that. “I _am_ letting myself live.”

The look she gave him told him she didn’t believe him. He felt himself frown and Allura's hand left his cheek. Her hands lifted and she pressed her fingertips to his temple gently. His mind blanked and then, like a motion picture reel, he relived his own memories.

His remaining family in Cuba came first; followed by Veronica, Rachel and Luis giving him video calls in turn to check up on him.

Hunk was next, making the occasional visit to his farm with a new delicacy in his hands for him to try.

It was followed by Keith, whose visits were rarer than the rest, but no less meaningful nor appreciated. His younger self would never have envisioned finding a trusting friendship in him.

Then Shiro, who encouraged him to call more often for long, drawn out conversations where they reminisced their early days.

And finally, in blurry succession, Pidge. With each recent memory, her smiles became less strained. He'd never noticed it before, but it relieved him to see them grow more genuine, reaching her eyes.

The memories stopped; the last image lingering in his mind long after her fingertips left his skin.

It was Pidge, moments before her leaving after her most recent visit. He'd been thinking of how beautiful she'd become. She came up to his chin now, her hair a little longer but no less distinctly Pidge. She was smiling up at him here and he wondered if she’d always given him such soft looks.

_“Why aren’t you surrounding yourself with the people that love and miss you?”_

His eyes lowered and he shrugged. “I mean...it’s not like the others have time. They have wildly different careers and-”

 _“Lance,”_ her voice was firm, but she was gentle. _“You had a career too. A dream even.”_

He felt himself gulp and he looked about him. He realised the brightness had dimmed down and a large, glowing tree stood over them - the very one she revived on their first date. Allura slowly disappeared at this stage, as did the tree and his surroundings. He was left alone and with nothing.

And then, he woke.

* * *

The next time Pidge visited, Lance took her around the farm for a tour. He took her hand and pulled her into the fields, placing juniberry flowers in her hair and laughing as a butterfly - white winged with blue edges - landed squarely on her nose.

“Hey Pidge?”

She shook her head gently until the butterfly fluttered away and turned to smile at him. “Yeah?”

He gulped for a bit, already chickening out. “I...I miss flying.”

He cringed internally; it wasn’t what he had intended to say, but it was no less true. She was quiet for a few seconds until she strode forward to grasp his hand, and tugged him out of the fields. She led him to her ship and pulled a helmet from her seat.

“Have at it,” she grinned, pressing the helmet to his hands.

It will take him awhile to become re-acquainted with the controls again and his dexterity wasn’t what it once was, but Pidge entrusted him with her ship. One she no doubt spent many hours perfecting to her tastes and one that he was _not_ about to crash because he’d lost the nerve to say he missed her.

“I'm rusty,” he warned, tugging on the helmet. Pidge reached forward to adjust his visor and shrugged. From their close proximity, he noticed - _really_ noticed - how much she had grown. He could no longer stare down the top of her head. She was at the perfect height for him to give her forehead kisses and he didn’t know what to make of _that_ stray thought.

“Then it's time for a shine, Tailor.” Her smile was so bright, it conveyed the infinite trust - just like they had before - she had in him.

His fingers quivered as he gripped the control handles, the craft’s shield closed over to him smoothly; seatbelts automatically slithered across his chest and clicking him in place securely. He went through the processes, checking the engines, the transponder and finally the annunciator panel that gave him the all-clear.

He took in a shaky breath to steady himself and then squeezed the controls, feeling his heart race as the craft hovered. Lift off was as thrilling as he remembered. As was nudging the craft into terminal velocity and breaking the sound barrier. He heard himself whoop, his heart race erratically as he dared a few turns and swoops. Pidge had done a magnificent job in fine-tuning the gears; allowing him to reach peak speeds in the matter of milliseconds.

He was out-of-breath by the time he carefully landed, Pidge grinning widely by his side as he jumped out.

“That was _incredible_ !” He yanked off the helmet, shaking his hair out of it’s matted shape. “I mean all those modifications you made? They’re a complete _dream_. You’re amazing, you know that?!”

He picked her up in a bear hug and spun her around, her surprised giggles the icing on top to his incredible mood. When he finally set her down, Pidge looked up to him nervously. He lifted an eyebrow in response.

“You know...we are looking for another pilot,” she spoke carefully, fully aware that she was treading on sensitive territory with him. His breath hitched and she stepped away from him quickly. “I mean, only if you absolutely want to. Not to pressure you or anything. I just don’t know if I should ask you or just hint it or-”

“Pidge.”

“-and you know I just...really want you there,” she finished, the tips of her ears pink.

He ignored the clench of longing in his chest. “I’d love to,” he began, smiling gently down at her. He handed her the helmet back. “But,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping with the knowledge that he was going to disappoint her. “I need to think on it for a bit... I’m sorry, Pidge.”

It broke his heart to see the hope in her eyes fade. As eager as he was to helm the pilot’s seat again, he had the farm to think about and his elderly parents.

“It’s okay,” she bit her lip, averting her eyes downward.

He rested his hands on her shoulders again, waiting for her to lift her head before he spoke again. “I’d drop everything I could if it means I can see my best friend everyday again.”

Her smile was immediate; as was his own.

* * *

 

Pidge was an attractive woman. Beyond that, she was intelligent, witty and had a self-assurance to her that made her immensely attractive. As soon as they returned from the war and back to Earth, she had her picking of admirers. Lance knew that it was inevitable that Pidge would date, fall in love with others and eventually, settle down with someone that wasn't him; but that knowledge didn't help the twist of jealousy in his belly whenever he caught wind of a new man in Pidge's life - usually dropped casually in conversation by Hunk.

But for each relationship that took off and ended - mostly by Pidge's own initiation - and for each time Pidge flew straight to Varadero just so she could have a drinking buddy to help with the broken heart, Lance knew he was slowly losing his chance in telling her how he felt.

This time was no different. They sat on his porch, the stars above them and the waning moon their only source of light. Pidge had just broken up with yet another Garrison no-name after dating him for a few weeks; yet another poor fellow who’d dropped an “I love you” on her _way_ before she was ready.

“Have you ever thought about how you're running away?”

Pidge swirled her glass and inspected the dark pink liquid that swirled within it. “Running away from what?”

“Relationships. You always jettison out when things get too serious. Like with Will? He told you he loved you and you laughed because you thought he was joking.”

“I really thought he was!” Pidge exclaimed. “I don't know. It just felt... _weird_ when he said that.”

“You felt guilty that you didn't feel the same way?” he offered, stretching out his legs. To his side, Pidge slowly nodded.

“You want to know something hilarious?” Lance lifted a brow and refilled her glass with more juniberry wine. “I used to be in love with you.”

Lance stilled.

She frowned for a bit, her nose scrunching. “Actually, that sounds a tad overdramatic. I _liked_ you; had a girlhood crush on you. I mean, I was like what, seventeen? But it's whatever.” She laughed heartily to herself and took a longer sip of her wine.

Lance felt himself pale. With the ages Pidge had given him, it meant that she harboured a crush on him while he dated Allura. If anyone knew what it felt like to watch someone he loved, fall in love in someone else, it was him.

“I-I'm sorry Pidge. I didn't know.”

Pidge waved him off, “I didn't say that you make you feel guilty. Don't apologize.”

“No, I have to,” he sighed. “I have so much to apologize for - to _thank_ you for. You were always there for me and I-”

“Have you thought about dating, loverboy?” she interjected.

“I...have,” he managed, letting the answer hang between them, a little thrown off by the interruption.  He thought of the girls his sisters pestered him into dating - all of them impressed with his Paladin past but none who wanted to know anything beyond that. He took in a shaky breath. “But I keep going back to one girl.”

Pidge stopped mid-sip to look over at him. His eyes dropped to her wine-stained lips, resisting the urge to run his thumb along the curve of her bottom lip. “I think I might be in love with her,” he continued, lifting his eyes to look back into hers.

“Oh,” Pidge fidgeted underneath his gaze. “I see.” She stared down into her glass so mutely that Lance hoped the implication didn’t fly over her head. “Why are you taking your time then?”

He blanched at her direct question; guess she _did_ understand him.

“I…” he paused to take a deep gulp of his wine and licked his lips. “I’m picking up the nerve to.”

A soft sigh escaped her lips and she leaned her head on his shoulder. He forgot how much he loved her small form curled up against him, even when they were just friends playing video games together.

“I don’t want her to think that I’m... _replacing_  her. She deserves so much more than that.”

“She won’t think that,” Pidge replied quietly. “I think... she’s been waiting for a while.”

“I won’t make her wait much longer.” He turned his head to kiss the top of her head. “I promise.”

* * *

 

It took five years since the end of the war before Pidge finally accepted his family’s Christmas dinner invitation.

But as soon as she landed on his fields, she was whisked away by his sisters and his mother. Lance quietly prayed they didn't overwhelm the poor young woman with their overzealous curiosity of the “Holt girl” that paid frequent visits to him.

Hunk, himself and his brothers were tasked with moving furniture and setting up the tables and decorations. Throughout the day, Lance found himself peeking into the living room where Veronica had pulled her into to show her family photos and felt a real sense of fear remembering that his mother had a framed picture of his baby-self naked as the day he entered the world on the mantle. He saw Rachel pull her upstairs, presumably to help her get ready for the party and eventually, his mother - the lone civilised being in his household - asking if she could lend a hand in the kitchen to which Pidge eagerly accepted.

It was his brothers who pointed out his pout. Marco being the oldest and wisest, easily noted how his eyes kept finding her whenever she was in close proximity. Luis gleefully pointed out his blush when Pidge emerged from Rachel's room, dressed in a dark green sweater dress that clung onto curves Lance didn't know were there before (and making him feel terribly juvenile in his customary, ugly holiday sweater Rachel made for the family).

He had to concede that _maybe_ he was a little annoyed with his inability to get a word in with her the whole day. But when the party finally began and she stepped into the living room looking as she did, he found it even more difficult to speak at all. His extended family, certain members he wasn't even entirely sure how he was related to, descended upon her - absolutely fascinated to meet another paladin of Voltron, nevermind that they were related to one.

He watched her humbly accept the admiration, answering questions, explaining her inventions as best as she could while he, on the other hand, glowered to the side, waiting not-so-patiently for a lull in the attention so he could steal her away.

The _one_ time he turned his back on her - to help Elena get a third slice of chocolate cake when her mother wasn’t looking - she disappeared. The last person she’d spoken with, a distant uncle he himself barely knew the name of, said she needed ‘fresh air’.

“Check the porch,” Hunk winked, taking a swig of his eggnog. Lance didn’t like his suggestive tone.

* * *

 

“Hey, you okay?”

He tucked his hands in his pockets, leaning against the door ledge as he looked out into the fields with her. Pidge turned her head and lifted her glass of cider with a smile. “I’m good, just needed a breather.” She was seated alone on his porch, looking out onto the dark fields where the faint, sweet scent of Juniberries wafted over them with each breeze.

It didn’t snow in his corner of the world but it did turn chilly enough to necessitate sweaters. The one Pidge had on in particular had made him gulp down one-too-many non-alcoholic drinks. Lance didn’t even realize he was staring until she blushed and fidgeted, tugging at the sleeves to cover her hands.

“You should come in if you’re cold,” he began, quickly diverting his eyes as he stepped out into the porch. Behind him, the door slid shut and he jumped. He fumbled with the knob, sighing as he heard the smothered giggles of his niece and nephew.

“Nadia! Sylvio! Open the door!”

But his plea fell on deaf ears. He should have anticipated something like this; his family had been acting odd all day ever since he told them that Pidge had accepted their invite.

"Have fun _tio_!" the teenagers sniggered before running off. Lance leaned his forehead against the door and sighed.

"We could always walk around to the front door," Pidge suggested, a ghost of a laugh in her tone.

Lance sighed and sauntered over to her side. He plopped himself down next to her. "Sorry about that," he mumbled, feeling heat creep up his neck as Pidge leaned her head on his shoulder. He knew not to think much of it; they used to cuddle a lot closer than this when they were just friends and had nothing in the Castle to entertain them other than Killbot. But to see her be this comfortable around him again, with the renewed but not unwelcome tension between them gave him thoughts that he wasn't very proud of.

"Don't even worry about it," she sighed, shifting her head to a more comfortable position. Her warm breath fanned over his neck and he gulped, resisting the urge to pull her in closer. He finally allowed himself to rest his cheek on the top of her head.

"Do you have to go back tonight?" he asked softly. "We always have a room ready for you." She was a difficult woman to catch the time after the holidays and it just so happened to be the time of year he dreaded the most as her visits to the farm dwindled.

"Yeah," she lifted the warm cider to her lips for a sip. "Aliens don't celebrate Christmas, so it's straight back to work for me," she sighed, snuggling closer to him as another stronger, chilly breeze fanned over them.

Lance shoved aside the disappointment in his heart and brought his gaze out to the dark fields that sprawled before them.  He lifted an arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, rubbing gently to keep her warm in an action that was entirely instinctual. He only realized he'd touched her when her own arm curled around his waist.

"Any way I can convince you to stay with me?" he pressed. Pidge was so quiet and still, he had to glance down to make sure she was still awake; and she was, her eyes wide open and her cheeks tinted pink.

"Ah, um, I'd love to...But I really can't," she breathed, quickly taking a gulp of her cider and finishing it off. Lance immediately reached for her glass, gently swatting her hand away as she pulled it away.

"I'll go get you a refill," he pulled himself slowly away from her, already missing her warmth. But Pidge stood up abruptly with him.

"No! It's fine. I _really_ should get going now anyway..."

"You just got here Pidge," he pouted, surprising himself with his own pleading tone. "Stay a little longer."

"I've been here since _noon_ , dummy. I was helping your mom with the cooking!" She laughed gently as she punched his shoulder lightly.

Lance blinked at that. She was right, but he’d been busy helping put up decorations and move furniture for the party that he hadn’t managed to really spend time with her. “But you weren’t near to me,” he murmured. “It doesn’t feel like it, so it shouldn’t count.”

But Pidge wasn’t listening to him anymore. Though her head had tilted up to talk to him, her eyes looked beyond the top of his head to the wooden awning over them. He followed her gaze and in the light of the full moon, his eyes quickly found the hanging sprig of mistletoe in the dim light.

Heat rushed to his cheeks. Lance took in a deep breath. This was clearly schemed and he had a sneaking suspicion Hunk and his niblings had a hand in this. All night, Hunk had been elbowing him whenever Pidge walked about his living room, talking casually with his family members as though she were a part of the family. She practically was, he realized then; seeing how much his family embraced her presence. Pidge was the first to speak up.

“I know it’s tradition but I just don’t want to force you into something that you don’t want to do.”

“Neither do I.”

“But I don’t want you to feel like I’m turning you down...”

“I won’t mind if you do.”

“And I mean - it’s such an outdated concept. Who even thought of this?!”

“Someone looking for a kiss, probably.”

At this point, Pidge had begun slowly taking a step back and followed it with another. Everytime she did, he took a step forward.

“We don’t _have_ to...”

“Of course not, Pidge.”

“But um, if _you_ want to-”

“Without a doubt.”

The sureness of his reply, he was certain, was what made her stop her rambling and for her face to turn red as beets. Her body froze in her slow, backward walk away from him as soon as her back hit a wall. He waited for a bit, almost as though giving her time to bolt if she wished, before he closed the distance and he leaned his head forward.

Pidge squeaked and her eyes screwed shut momentarily. His lips twitched up and he took a moment to appreciate her red face. Watching her get so flustered was something he never anticipated getting a secret kick out of; nothing made him grin wider than a ruddy-cheeked Pidge. Her eyes fluttered opened to watch him warily, unsure if he was about to make his move.

Lance leaned down closer and Pidge tilted her head upward, looking up at him through her eyelashes. His eyes dropped down to her lips - stained lightly with dark pink lip balm and he was sure, sweet as the cider she’d been nursing all evening.

Her breath hitched when he brought his face close to hers, and her eyes fluttered closed. He resisted chuckling and instead, pressed his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss. Her eyes flew open and she blinked in confusion, a furrow quickly forming between her eyebrows.

Oh boy, she looked _mad_.

Before he could muster a response, her fingers grasped his collar. Her eyes locked with his and he couldn’t help but shiver at the fiery blaze in them. In one smooth motion, she tugged him down and her lips sealed over his. If Lance hadn’t braced his hands against the wall behind her, he was certain he would have been on the floor.

He was right about her lips - they were soft and sweet and never had cider tasted so good. Her fingers eased on his collar and both hands smoothed out to his shoulders. Her lips moved against his, more gentle this time and his body went numb with pleasure as a sliver of her tongue peeked to lick over his bottom lip.

He’d recovered from his shock by then and returned it with greater fervour. The soft, pleasured hum that came from her throat awakened something dormant in him. He just _knew_ that if it weren’t for the party, she’d be thrown over his shoulder and carried right to his bedroom.

His arms came around her but she’d already moved her head away. Without her soft lips distracting him, Lance finally realized the ache in his neck and reluctantly straightened his back.

“Sorry,” Pidge mumbled shyly, watching him crack it. Lance shook his head, still in a bit of a daze from the dizzying kiss she had surprised him with.

“I’m not,” he brought his gaze downward, eyes still lidded. She hit his chest lightly, burying her groans to his sweater. He chuckled and hugged her tight to him.

“You _have_ to stay now,” he murmured, his voice huskier and the effect on the woman in his arms was immediate. She burrowed her face closer into his sweater and Lance wanted nothing more than for her to stay right there for as long as she liked. Some kind of contact barrier was broken at some point, he wasn’t sure when, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining. And from the manner Pidge’s fingers idly traced over his biceps through his sweater, she wasn’t either.

“I really have to go…” she sighed eventually, her fingers now toying with a stray wool strand from his sweater. He rubbed her back and pressed a kiss to her brow with a sigh.

“I’ll walk you to your jet.”

* * *

 

On the walk through the fields to the clearing where she’d parked her jet, he let his fingers brush experimentally against hers. Sure enough, Pidge’s fingers curled around his and he engulfed them easily with his own. Seeing as how none of his family had come to rescue them from the porch, Lance reassured her that it was perfectly fine if she didn’t say her goodbyes.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he admitted, leaning against her jet as she configured the flight path on her console. “They have no shame in asking for details. That mistletoe wasn’t there when I cleaned the porch this afternoon.”

Pidge grinned his way and those ridiculous palpitations in his chest returned. Maybe he should book an appointment with a doctor; he was way too young to have heart problems.

“Well,” she sighed, reaching in to flip a switch and the engines hummed to life. There was a sudden awkward shift in the atmosphere with the realization that they weren’t quite ‘best buds’ anymore.  “I’ll see you in April?”

He licked his lips, and pushed himself off the craft. Pidge noted his silence and climbed down from the seat to stand before him. She appraised him, unsure of what to make his silence. “What’s wrong?”

Lance stared down to his shoes, unsure of how he could explain the conflict that brewed within him.

“It’s too long,” he breathed finally, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.

Pidge’s toe drew a nervous line across the grass. “I know,” she sighed. “But the start of the year is when the new recruits come in and I really can’t be away.”

A voice - his instincts, he realized - urged to do something that was once unthinkable; and for the first time in a long while, he decided to listen to it.

“Are they still looking for pilots?”

 

* * *

 

He waited till her jet was nothing but a streak of green on the dark sky before walking back to his home. Something fluttered from the corner of his eye and he turned to see a glowing white butterfly rest on his shoulder. The tips and edges of its wings were tinged a bright blue - a distinctive shade that reminded him of someone’s eyes. He frowned; he’d always thought butterflies won’t be about in the night. But just as he reached for it, it brushed against his cheek and flew away into the night.

Hunk was waiting for him at the porch, the door finally wife open with the heads of his niece and nephew poking out.

“That looked like a hot goodbye kiss straight out of a movie.”

“Shut up, Hunk.”

“You’re welcome bud!” his long-time friend quipped cheerily. “But uh, Lance? Can I point out something?”

Hunk waited till he turned his head towards him and raised a brow. He pointed to his cheekbones.

“They're gone.”

* * *

 

It was a few days after the new year did he finally take the plunge. Her promise still rang clearly in his head and the promise of a new beginning lifting his spirits.

His parents had taken the news with no surprise - much to _his_ surprise - and had helped him pack with an eagerness that made him raise his brow.

_"Are you guys that eager to get rid of me?" he joked, watching his mother make some wraps for his relatively long trip._

_"Of course not, mijo," his mother began, carefully wrapping them in foil and handing it to him. "Your father and I were so worried that you'd spend all your youth with us here when you had such a bright future ahead of you."_

_"There's nothing wrong with farming!"_

_"There isn't at all! But Lance, you've always wanted to be a pilot ever since you were a little boy," his mother’s eyes softened and touched his cheek. "And I just knew - watching you - that you missed it." He stooped down to hug her tightly, the slight guilt and apprehension for leaving his parents dissipating with her reassurance. "I'm just happy you're seeking your own happiness again. Your father and I will manage just fine without you.”_

His mother, as usual, had been right. The farm offered him a safe, familiar respite after the war. But he'd taken his time and allowed himself to heal out of the warm cocoon of the farm and back into the world. The outer world where Pidge was, where his dreams laid waiting to be realized. It was why he was there, at Plaht Regional, chewing on the last of his wraps as he people-watched. Friends and family hugged each other as they sent off or picked up members at the airport. It was one place he never anticipated being in again, and yet, here he was.

He watched tearful reunions and goodbyes and found himself marvelling how, at this point in his life, found himself in the middle. He was bidding goodbye to an old chapter of his life - one that he cherished and was thankful for helping him grow and mature out of boyhood and welcoming a new, unwritten chapter.

"Lance! Buddy!"

His smile widened at the familiar voice and he stood up.

"Hey Hun- Whoa!"

His friend hugged him tightly, lifting his lanky form effortlessly and squeezing him like a teddy bear. "I missed you so much," he sniffled.

"We literally saw each other two weeks ago," he chuckled, feeling air return to his lungs as soon as his feet touched the floor once more and his friend's arms loosened.

"That's not nearly enough!" Hunk chided, looking at him with the same offended expression his _abuela_ pulled when he didn't make his frequent calls. "We spent _years_ out in space together and being roommates at the Garrison then... you're just not there anymore."  
  
Lance squeezed his shoulder, feeling the tightness in his chest return. "I missed you too, buddy," he murmured, letting Hunk help with his luggage.

"By the way dingus, you could have just asked Pidge for a lift here."  
  
Lance just shrugged. “I was hoping to surprise her.”

* * *

  
  
Lance forgot how cold it got that time of year but Hunk had the foresight to get him a coat.  
  
"What brings you here this time of year?" Lance asked, strapping himself into his buddy's car.  
  
"Romelle and I were looking for a place here."

"Like...permanently?" he shot a smirk to his friend’s side.

"Don't say it like that!" His friend flushed, turning into the exit with the sign 'Plaht City'. "We just...wanted to be close to my family when we're back on Earth. Figured we might as well find someplace...permanent." He sighed in defeat as Lance laughed heartily. "As opposed to renting!” his friend protested. “It's not like _that_ yet."

"Bet your mom's been hoping for an announcement, huh?"  
  
"Dude, don't even mention it. She was so disappointed when I brought her home for New Years’."  
  
"Well, don't disappoint _me_ either. I've been itching to be a best man."

Lance smiled to himself as Hunk groaned into his steering wheel. He leaned his chin on his hand, watching the familiar landmarks pass by. Plaht City had undergone massive changes. From the glaringly obvious monument of Voltron on the city square and the towering skyscrapers, to the throngs of people - aliens and humans alike - that milled about, Lance marvelled at how all of this would have been unthinkable a little over a decade ago.

It didn't take long for the gleaming new buildings of the Galaxy Garrison to come into view and as if Hunk had been reading his mind, his friend answered a question that had been on his mind since landing. "Pidge is away. Not sure where she jetted off to this time, but you'll see her back in about a week."

"Oh..." He didn't miss the overtly-casual tone of his friend, but he figured at that point, there was no use in playing dumb. “Is it for a conference?”

“Who knows man, she just jets off wherever, whenever she feels like it.”

He shoved down the urge to ask if someone else goes on those spontaneous trips with her.

* * *

 

The Galaxy Garrison had gone through a massive overhaul in management. It's militaristic roots still stood true, but it was not nearly as regimented as it was when he was a cadet. A new legion of defenders operated out of the Garrison where it served as a homebase - he remembered Pidge mentioning them offhandedly.

Hunk took him a tour around the hangars showing the new jets, land rovers and other carriers - all retrofitted with Holt modifications. A sense of pride overcame him knowing Pidge, _his_ Pidge, had a major hand in this accomplishment and it didn't take him very long to be left reeling with the pang in his chest. He wanted - _needed_ \- to see her.

“Lance?” a soft breathy voice came from above him. He lifted his head, looking past the gleaming blades of a helicopter to the metals steps off it’s side.

And there she was.

She blinked down at him for a moment and her eyes darted to his cheeks. A question was clear in her eyes but she didn’t bring herself to ask him that. It was in the sudden, awkward quietness in the room did Lance realize that Hunk had made himself scarce.

That lying bugger.

“I...Um, Hunk said you weren’t around,” he ran a hand nervously through his hair, cursing his lack of foresight to neaten it. In truth, he’d hoped he would have time to shower, change and style his hair before he sought her out. He certainly had a lot to catch up on skincare-wise too.

“I’m usually not here this time of year,” she leaned comfortably against the ladder, tucking the tool in her hand into her coat pocket. She looked like she didn’t mind his dishevelled appearance. Pidge herself wasn’t too far off. Her lab coat was smeared with fuel and soot, her computer-glasses perched precariously on the top of her head where her hair was pulled into a messy top knot. A few tendrils escaped it to frame her eyes.

He didn’t think she could look more gorgeous and the throbs in his chest only grew in intensity with her smile.

“You want to have a look at this baby? Dad and I spent _weeks_ refining Altean tech so it’s more transferable to Earth-made vehicles. If you’re...ready, I might even get you to test-drive it soon.”

Excitement flooded his veins and he grinned up at her.

He soon found himself up in the cockpit with her, their knees pressed together in the pilots’ seats as she explained the improved controls and its functions. They _really_ didn’t need to sit this close to each other - the helicopter being larger than most - but it was the last thing on their minds. Their fingers brushed briefly and Lance, in a move that he’d never think he would do, grabbed them gently and kissed her fingers.

“You never cease amaze me,” he spoke sincerely, looking at her flushed cheeks.

She shrugged, “I guess it’s a Holt thing.”

“It’s a _Pidge_ thing,” he insisted. “I’d recognise that masking tech anywhere. It has your name written all over it.”

The glow on her face made every agonising second on the seven hour commercial flight worth it. He played with her fingers idly as they sat back quietly on the seats, Pidge’s gaze looking everywhere but him.

“Y’know Pidge, that pizza place we used to go to as Garrison brats re-opened.”

“Giovanni’s? Yeah, it’s a little more upscale now,” she laughed twining her fingers slowly through his. He let his thumb trace over the edges of new scars over her knuckles and the backs of her hands - from welding accidents, scratches from stray parts and careless use of power tools - they all told little tales that he wanted to know more about.

“Yeah, I thought it’d be a great place for...for a date.” He held his breath, watching her still. But it didn’t take long for a smile to bloom - prettier than any juniberry he’d grown.

“I’d love that, Lance.”

 

* * *

 

He knew they became serious the day Pidge set up their GameFlux in his apartment.

“ _It’s easier_ ,” she’d said. “ _We can come over and play during breaks._ ” For a while, what she said made sense seeing as he lived on the Garrison compound, but Lance instinctively knew there was more to it.

It was probably the one time she was wrong about something.

The game was often left forgotten, controls abandoned and their hands, instead, on each other. Her fingers would peel off his uniform, to feel up muscles hardened with years of farming and his own caressing her soft curves hidden beneath her coat.

He’d like to think she enjoyed being wrong.

* * *

 

The first time he’d said “I love you” to her, it was a morning after she stayed over at his place.

She’d come over many times before, usually crashing in his place when she was too tired to drive back to her apartment in the city or on the weekends when she came over to play on their GameFlux. He even cleared a shelf for her in his closet, and she quickly filled it with hoodies, spare work shirts and underwear - only to never use them.

Lance would never, _ever_ complain about seeing one of his shirts dwarf his girlfriend’s petite frame, and that day was no exception. For once, she had risen before him, attempting to make the pancakes he usually made for her.

He walked quietly towards her, slowly allowing his hands to travel up the curve of her hips before wrapping his arms around her waist. She sighed softly, setting down the spatula to lean her body against his bare chest. He peppered kisses from the back of her neck, down to the curve of her bare shoulder; his shirt barely keeping on her slight frame.

“G’mornin’ sleepyhead,” she murmured, tilting her head to accommodate his kisses. His nose pressed to her soft hair, still cropped short and wild just the way he loved and scenting of the juniberry oil he made for her.

“Those look a little burnt,” he teased, moving again to press kisses against her soft skin, wishing she’d stayed in bed so he could _properly_ worship her and add to the small collection of pink love bites that littered her decolletage. “Should have woken me up if you were hungry.”

“They are,” she sighed, reaching for the spatula to scrape off another too-dark pancake out onto a plate stacked high with the other malformed ones and switched off the stove in defeat. “And I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to be the one to make breakfast for once.” He could already see her pout and he hid a laugh to her hair.

A hand slipped to rest against her hip sliding forward until his hand splayed out over the soft skin of her stomach while the other rested on the kitchen counter. He pulled her in gently, craving her soft warmth since waking.

“Come back to bed,” he nibbled her ear. “I want _you_ for breakfast.” He smirked at her soft gasp and how she shivered at the thinly veiled implication of his words.

“I have work,” she finally sighed. It was clear that it pained her to say no to him. With a more sardonic tone, she added, “I have a hardass pilot on my case. Says he wants the cloaking software on his jet updated by this week.”

Lance closed his eyes, cursing his lack of foresight.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll understand,” he nudged the edge of her (his) shirt upward and Pidge yanked it down pointedly.

“He has a mission to go to in a few days.” She turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his back and resting her head on his chest. “I need to make sure the craft’s fully operational and safe for him.”

Lance’s arms closed tighter around her, the tightness in his chest making it hard for him to breathe. “I’m sure it is,” he rested his cheek on the top of her head. “He trusts you with his life.”

Pidge was quiet in his arms again and he knew she was thinking about his mission. It was the longest one he’d been assigned to yet - five weeks spanning several locations - and out in the outer corners of their sector. At the very least, he was grateful it wasn’t a dangerous mission - nowhere near the levels of danger they exposed themselves to as paladins. But all the same, it meant time apart from her; sleeping alone without her soft breaths lulling him to sleep.

Something deep in him urged him to say the words. He knew her well enough to know she didn’t like grand displays nor public displays of affection especially in her work space. He knew she loved secret kisses in the dark and stealing away to a private room so he can lavish her with pleasure.

While they had absolutely no issues in expressing their physical desire and need for one another, overt displays of affection came a little more quietly. She loved doing things for him - inventing things that made his life easier, spending nights in her lab before one of his missions to make sure his gear was safe to use and, he was sure, letting him beat her in Killbot when he looked too defeated. That was her love language and everyday, he adored her more for it.

But today, she needed to know his own love language.

“I love you,” he whispered finally, feeling her body still in his arms. The first of many, or the first and last. Either way, never had he said those words so surely. When she finally lifted her head to look up at him, her eyes welled with tears.

“Took you long enough, you jerk.”

* * *

 

As their relationship grew from a shy, hesitant romance to the enamoured souls they were now, Lance found himself more breathlessly in awe of her. He wondered if she knew the full extent of what he felt for her - how his heart soared whenever he saw her face or that a single wink from her was enough to arrest all rational thought.

And each time he brought her home, to the fields of the juniberries that should make him hesitate and remember his old love, he found himself imagining a future with her.

Even now, as they walked away from the fanfare of Rachel’s reception in his family’s barn, her body pressed to his and her hair braided with the beautiful pink flowers by his own fingers, Lance knew that wherever she ventured - just as that day when he followed after her all those years ago to the Garrison rooftop - was where the rest of his life was headed. 

“Who knew an open-air wedding could feel so stuffy?”

He laughed and wrapped an arm around her.  Before them, the sun dipped into the horizon, streaking the sky with pinks and yellows that distinctly reminded him of the flowers that surrounded them. The juniberries were in full bloom and the sweet scent enveloped them as they walked into the fields hand-in-hand.

“Rachel always wanted a big wedding,” Lance smiled down at her, taking in how breathtaking she looked in her cream bridesmaid’s dress. “Maybe for our turn, we’d reconsider inviting extended family. It can be just close friends and family.”

“Our turn?” Pidge lifted a brow at him, her cheeks turning pink. He leaned forward to kiss one.

“Yeah, one day.”

“One day,” she echoed, resting her head against his chest with a smile. A year into dating and Lance knew he would never tire of this feeling - her body close to his, her hand twined in his.

A butterfly, one that looked too alike the one he’d seen before, rested on their joined hands. But instead of staring in wonder at the tiny creature and it’s white wings and bright azure edges that had an otherworldly glow to them, he found himself looking at his love.

“You’re kind of wearing white today,” he murmured softly, pressing his lips to her hair and letting his voice drop an octave. Her eyes lifted to meet his, just as the butterfly fluttered away. “And I’m in a suit. I’m sure the minister is still around.”

“ _Lance_ , that’s not even funny,” she swatted his arm as he laughed. He grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles tenderly. “Besides, I pretty much wear a lab coat everyday. That’s white.”

Lance pretended to consider it. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but I might actually like to see you wear a lab coat to our wedding...outside of the labs and the bedroom of course.”

Pidge groaned and gave another weak swat, burying her pink face to his side. Her voice came uncharacteristically soft from his side.

“I mean...we don’t _have_ to.”

“Of course.”

“I love and adore you, but I don’t see why we need a big ceremony for it.”

“I’m with you on that, Pidge.”

“Like, it’s an _old_ tradition. We can be a couple without being married.”

“Absolutely.”

“Unless...you really want to?”

He answered her with a soft kiss. Her arms slid up his chest to his shoulders, tugging him closer to deepen the kiss. When he finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead pressed to hers, looking right into eyes he wanted to wake up to for the rest of his life. He said what was right on his mind.

“Let’s elope.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me your thoughts ♥


End file.
